


Matt and the Weird Girl

by PajamaSecrets



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: F/M, Friends to Lovers, Genderbending, Genderswap, Multi, Roommates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-11
Updated: 2016-02-07
Packaged: 2018-04-03 22:08:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4116547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PajamaSecrets/pseuds/PajamaSecrets
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“Matt Murdock,” Matt says, reaching out his hand for a handshake. The girl stands up and rushes over to shake it.</i>
</p><p>  <i>“Foggy Nelson,” she says.</i> </p><p>  <i>“Foggy?” Matt quirks his head to the side. His hearing is impeccable, there’s no way he could’ve misheard. </i></p><p>  <i>“Yeah, I know, it’s not girly at all. My name’s actually Francine, but everyone calls me Foggy. I talk too loud, got called ‘the foghorn girl’ a lot. I guess it kinda stuck.”</i><br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Excuse me, is this room 312?” Matt walks through the doorway, duffel bag in tow.

 

“Yeah, who are you looking for?” A feminine voice responds. “Oh, sorry…”

 

Matt raises an eyebrow. “What for?”

 

“You’re blind, right?” The voice responds.

 

“Yeah, so they tell me. I hope that won’t be a problem.”

 

“Why would it?” The voice asks. 

 

Matt can hear her tapping away on her laptop. Matt drops his duffel bag on top of (what he assumes is) his bed. 

 

“Oh,” she continues, “You’re my roomie!”

 

“Matt Murdock,” Matt says, reaching out his hand for a handshake. The girl stands up and rushes over to shake it.

 

“Foggy Nelson,” she says.

 

“Foggy?” Matt quirks his head to the side. His hearing is impeccable, there’s no way he could’ve misheard. 

 

“Yeah, I know, it’s not girly at all. My name’s actually Francine, but everyone calls me Foggy. I talk too loud, got called ‘the foghorn girl’ a lot. I guess it kinda stuck.”

 

“Well, Foggy, I think you talk at a perfectly normal volume,” Matt says, and it’s true. He has actually met people who are louder than his heightened senses are comfortable with. And Foggy's scent isn’t overpowering, either— her deodorant seems to be the “unscented” kind, which contrary to popular belief, _does_ have a scent— and on Foggy, it’s pleasant. She’s not wearing any perfume, and whatever shampoo she uses must be rather generic, because Matt can’t pinpoint a specific scent. Lavender, maybe?

 

“Oh, just wait until you hear me watch baseball,” she says, and Matt is taken out of his musings— “I get _really_ pissed off when the Mets lose.”

 

Matt laughs at that. He probably shouldn’t mention he’s a Yankees kind of guy himself. 

 

Baseball rivalries aside, Matt thinks he and Foggy are going to get along just fine. However, there is still one question hanging in the air that they haven’t broached, and likely wouldn’t for a while: gender-neutral housing, and why they requested it.

 

Matt doesn’t want to make Foggy uncomfortable, so he keeps his curiosity in check.

 

—

 

It’s the middle of first semester, and Matt meets a girl in his Finance of Law class. Her name is Annabelle, and her laugh is high and giggly and her shampoo smells flowery and light. Matt flirts, playing up the “handsome, wounded duck thing”, as Foggy is wont to call it. And it works. Annabelle asks if she can come over to his room. Matt gleefully agrees. He hasn’t hooked up with anyone in quite some time, and is definitely looking forward to getting some action.

 

As Matt and Annabelle stumble into Matt’s room, Annabelle speaks in-between kisses: “Matt,” - _kiss_ \- “don’t you have,” - _kiss_ \- “a roommate?” 

 

“Yeah,” he breathes, sucking a kiss onto her neck, delighting in the noise it produces from Annabelle. “But my roommate has a class right now.” His voice sounds a little strained as he smells— _Jesus,_ he can smell how turned on Annabelle is.

 

They move for Matt’s bed, tumbling ungracefully onto the sheets.

 

“Are these _silk_?” Annabelle laughs, running her hand along the soft material.

 

“I like to be comfortable,” Matt shrugs, then brushes the collar of Annabelle’s blouse with his hands. “May I?”

 

Annabelle nods vigorously, then says, “I just nodded, sorry, go ahead—” and Matt thinks, _Foggy does that too_ , but doesn’t say it out loud, because why the hell is he thinking about his roommate when he’s getting hot and heavy with this girl?

 

Matt unbuttons Annabelle’s shirt slowly, taking time to place a kiss on every new inch of skin revealed, and Annabelle squirms in anticipation.

 

“Patience is a virtue, you know,” Matt grins as he gets to the last button.

 

“Shut up and take your clothes off,” Annabelle laughs breathily.

 

“Your wish is my command.” Matt pulls his t-shirt up and over his head. Annabelle gasps and runs her hands over the planes of his torso. He smirks— a little bit smug— he knows his training at the gym has paid off.

 

“Wow,” Annabelle whispers. “Oh my God.”

 

“Nope, just Matt,” Matt teases, leaning down to kiss Annabelle’s collarbone. 

 

Annabelle’s hips hitch up when Matt nips at her ear. Matt grinds against her, letting her feel just how much he’s liking their time together. Just as Annabelle moans sweetly in his ear, Matt hears a familiar heartbeat on the first floor.

 

 _Shit_ , Matt starts to panic, _Foggy_. There’s no way Foggy’s done with class this early—did she ditch? Did her professor cancel? Matt was banking on two hours of alone time and was _so_ not prepared for Foggy to walk in on this.

 

“Matt, what’s wrong?” Annabelle asks. 

 

“Um, it’s nothing.” Matt hears Foggy’s heartbeat reach the second floor. Right now is one of the times Matt wishes he could see, just so he could send a booty-call warning text to Foggy without speech-to-text ruining the mood. What would he even say? _‘Send text to Foggy. Don’t come in, comma, I’m getting some ass, exclamation point’?_. Maybe he should put a sock on the doorknob. Do people still put socks on doorknobs? 

 

“Hey, um.” Matt stands up and plucks off a sock from his foot, “Give me a minute.”

 

Matt quickly scoots into the hallway, covers the doorknob with his sock, and returns.

 

“Did you seriously just put a sock on the door?” Annabelle asks, humor tinging her voice.

 

“I’m a little old-fashioned, I guess,” Matt cracks a smile and hopes he doesn’t seem too nervous. Foggy’s heartbeat is now on the third floor, steadily nearing.

 

Annabelle tugs Matt down and back onto the bed. Matt hopes Foggy sees the sock before she says anything.

 

“Hey, asshole,” Foggy’s voice affectionately rings from the hallway, “the prof cancelled on us without even sending an email. Rude. Do you wanna get coffee or- oh, shit, sorry, I’ll leave.”

 

Well, at least she saw the sock.

 

“Who was that?” Annabelle asks, bewildered.

 

“Just Foggy.”  Matt hopes that’s a significant explanation. 

 

“Foggy Nelson? That fucking _weird_  girl? What the hell was she doing at your door?” Annabelle laughs, as if it’s the most hilarious thing in the world.

 

Matt swallows against the acidic feeling in his throat and slowly pulls away from Annabelle. He stands up, grabs his t-shirt, and shrugs it back on. “You should go,” he says quietly, not facing Annabelle. 

 

“I thought we were just getting started,” Annabelle sighs, her voice light. 

 

“I really, really think you should leave.” Matt keeps his back to Annabelle.

 

“Alright then,” Annabelle says, “you can call me if you have time later.”

 

Matt listens as Annabelle picks up her blouse, buttons it and leaves the room. 

 

Matt goes into the hallway to retrieve his sock from the door. He puts it back on his foot, then feels around his desk for his cell phone. 

 

“Call Foggy,” he says.

 

“Calling Foggy Nelson,” his phone chirps back at him. Three rings, and Foggy picks up.

 

“Hey, dude, I thought you were getting some booty,” Foggy says.

 

Matt laughs, affection filling his chest. “I did too,” Matt says.

 

“Ooh, did she run when she discovered that gnarly scar on your left hip?” Foggy asks in genuine sympathy.

 

“Oh, come _on,_ it can’t look that bad.” Matt absentmindedly reaches down into the waistband of his jeans, running his finger along the scar in question. It wasn’t that big of a deal, really. He got stabbed by a mugger because he was stupid and didn’t know what locked switchblades sounded like. Matt did get the woman’s wallet back for her, though, and the mugger got a fist to the face. Matt stitched up his hip himself after limping home.

 

“I mean, if she was not wooed by your greater assets, it must’ve been the scar, dude. I’m just going with the evidence we have.” Foggy says, her voice teasing.

 

“I think you— you said something about coffee? Can I take you up on that offer?” Matt asks.

 

“Of course, Matt,” Foggy says. “I’ll come back up and get you.”

 

Matt frowns. “Where did you go?” 

 

He pretends he doesn’t know exactly where she is. First floor. In the lounge, probably. He can hear her heartbeat, steady and reliable.

 

“In the first floor lounge. I wasn’t gonna sit in the hallway while you were making sweet love,” Foggy croons, and Matt groans. 

 

“Eww, don’t call it that,” Matt replies.

 

“Doin’ the dirty? The no-pants-dance? A hardcore fuck-fest? Whatever you wanna call it, man.”

 

“Foggy, shut _up,_ ” Matt can feel his face heat up. Foggy certainly has no reservations about speaking her mind. Matt likes that about her, in all honesty. _  
_

 

“Dude, are you blushing right now? You’re totally blushing. I bet my shapely Irish ass that you’re blushing.”

 

“You’re Irish?” Matt asks, intrigued. He didn’t have much to go on as to what Foggy looks like; Matt hasn’t asked yet to touch her face. He knows from other people that she’s sandy blond, and a little chubby. And one night, after they shared a bottle of vodka, _‘I guess you don’t know this because of the whole blind thing, but I have giant boobs. My back hurts, dude. Seriously, I’m in triple D hell. Oww. Sorry, was that too much information?’_ Matt had said that he could tell when they hugged, because breasts tended to squish against flat surfaces. They laughed for about fifteen minutes straight because Matt had said "breasts" and described himself as a “flat surface”.

 

“Yeah, Irish on both sides. Although more on my mom’s. My maternal grandmother is legit Irish. Brogue and all. Also, I’m happy the first thing out of your mouth wasn't about my ass. A-plus for respecting women.”

 

“Foggy, it’s just polite not to comment on someone’s ass.”

 

“Really? Because you sure like it when people comment on _your_ ass.”

 

“…You have a point there.”

 

“I mean, you _do_ have the sweetest hiney on any dude I’ve ever seen. I mean that from the bottom of my heart. By the way, I’m like about to be at our door, so I’m hanging up now. Put on your pants.”

 

Matt hangs up his phone and steps out the door. “I’m wearing pants.”

 

“The man is wearing pants, ladies and gentlemen!” Foggy exclaims triumphantly. She walks up to Matt and offers her arm. “Grab on, dude. We’re going on a coffee mission.”

 

“Lead the way, captain,” Matt places his hand in the crook of Foggy’s elbow and mock-salutes with the other. 

 

 _If she’s a weird girl, I don’t care,_ Matt thought. _She’s_ my _weird girl._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gender-neutral housing is a real thing at a lot of colleges now! A lot of people have reasons for wanting to have an opposite-sex roommate. 
> 
> The reasons why Foggy and Matt applied for gender-neutral housing will be explored later in the story.
> 
> I don't want to spoil anything, but this fic will have a healthy dose of angst and hurt/comfort, but will have plenty of comedy and fluff too. 
> 
> Anyway, let me know what you think!


	2. Chapter 2

Matt is great at multitasking. He can read an article with his refreshable braille display while monitoring half the building’s conversations in the back of his mind. He can give an amazing debate while listening to the heartbeats of dozens of his fellow students. It just comes easily to him.

 

So naturally, Matt can always tell when Foggy is approaching their shared room. If Matt’s doing his homework in his bed without pants on, and he hears Foggy’s heartbeat on the first floor, he’s got about three minutes to get decent. If Matt is breaking into a soulful (and horrifyingly off-key) rendition of Katy Perry’s _Teenage Dream_ , and hears Foggy’s delightfully breathy laugh down the hallway, he reminds himself that there’s no way she can hear him from that far a distance (and to shut up if she gets any closer). Usually, he’s pretty good about these things. They’ve had a few awkward moments— Matt emerged from the shower once, towel around his waist, and heard Foggy’s heartbeat ratchet up so fast Matt thought something was wrong. After he smelled the distinctive scent of, uh, _that_ , he made sure to bring his change of clothes with him into the bathroom from then onwards.

 

Not that he’s uncomfortable with Foggy being attracted to him. A lot of people are attracted to him. But Matt and Foggy live together, and it’s probably in violation of a zillion different codes of dorm conduct if they become romantically involved. (But that certainly didn’t stop roommates Scott and Xander from having kinky sex every other night on the fourth floor. Matt hears _everything_. He almost called Xander “daddy” in torts class once by accident and felt an overwhelming need to go to confession for weeks afterward.)

 

So when Matt is confident he is not going to be interrupted, he takes advantage of that opportunity. 

 

(Okay, he masturbates. He’s a guy in his mid-twenties, of course he masturbates. It may be considered a sin, but it’s not like he’s an angel.)

 

He leans back and rests his head against his pillow as he reaches for the lube he keeps in his bedside table’s drawer. He pushes his silk boxers down and frees his straining cock. He hasn’t done this in two weeks and he’s almost certain he’s going to come too soon. Good thing he has a short refractory period.

 

Matt slicks up his hand and grips himself tight. “Oh, _God_ ,” he groans, low and raspy. (Blasphemy, but who cares? Add it to the sin list. Might as well go all in.) 

 

He rubs his thumb against the slit at the head of his cock and it sends shivers through his entire body. He’s overwhelmed with the sound of his own pulse roaring in his ears, the encompassing heat of his hand; he bites his bottom lip to suppress the moan threatening to escape. He picks up the pace, and he should be embarrassed by the obscene sound the lube makes against his skin, but he’s too turned on to care.

 

Matt reaches down with his other hand to tug at his balls and hips hitch up in response. “Ah, ah, _fuck,_ ” he gasps out, and he knows he’s going to come. Almost, almost…

 

_Click._

 

The doorknob.

 

Matt’s heart lurches into his throat and stills the motion of his hand, but it’s too late. He comes in hot, messy bursts, his hips rocking up, tears building up in the corner of his eye from the overstimulation. He throws a sheet over himself in an attempt to save his dignity in case Foggy hasn’t seen yet. But she probably has.

 

“Matt? You got a girl in there?” Foggy asks from outside the door. She had stopped opening the door halfway. Which means she must have seen him. She has to have seen him.

 

“No,” Matt blurts out quickly, then kicks himself. Why didn’t he just say yes and get her to leave? He was _so_ fucked. Literally and metaphorically. 

 

Matt hears Foggy’s heartbeat flutter. “Dude, were you _jerking it_ in there?”

 

“Uh,” Matt says, and there’s really no way he can back out of this one. “Maybe.”

 

“Oh,” is all Foggy says in response.

 

“Please leave so I can bathe in my own shame,” Matt attempts to joke.

 

“And your own come, apparently.” Foggy remarks, and Matt is suddenly painfully aware that there is semen on his fucking _nipples._

 

“Foggyyyy,” Matt whines.

 

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry. You know, it’s a perfectly normal cycle of nature. Everybody masturbates. It’s kind of like the awkward sexual sister of ‘everybody poops’… I’m going to shut up now.”

 

“Please do,” Matt says with a nervous laugh.

 

“Speaking of cycles of nature, I need to come in so I can grab a maxi pad. I think there might be a chainsaw massacre in my underpants.”

 

Nothing like Foggy talking about her period to completely shut down Matt’s post-orgasm high. She knows exactly what to say to make things less awkward. 

 

The less-awkward relief lasts about two seconds as Matt promptly notices he had another erection. He suddenly hates his previously lauded refractory period. “What the fuck is wrong with me,” he mumbles to himself.

 

“A lot of things, dude, but I still love ya. Are you decent enough for me to enter the sex dungeon?”

 

“Our dorm room is not a sex dungeon.”

 

“Tell that to your dick.”

 

Matt groans in frustration and covers his face with a pillow, then pulls up his sheet further to cover himself up to his neck. “Feel free to enter the sex dungeon,” he says, pillow muffling his words.

 

They don’t mention it again. Matt expects Foggy to tease, but maybe some things are best left untouched.

 

Like his dick.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry. That was literally just porn. There will be plot very soon.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings in the endnotes (spoilery). Sorry I took so long to update!!!

“Dude, I’ve never been to a party with this many undergrads since _I_ was an undergrad,” Foggy yells above the pounding music.

 

“Beth said that law students were welcome,” Matt yells back, “this _is_ the law fraternity, after all.”

 

“I can tell, there are pre-laws everywhere,” Foggy quips. “C’mon, let’s get a drink.”

 

Matt holds onto Foggy’s elbow and follows her to the frat house’s kitchen, which is currently serving as the bar. Matt hears the _clunk_ of people slamming their glasses onto the counter after they take shots.

 

This really isn’t Matt’s scene. He had outgrown these kinds of parties a while ago, but they were invited by Beth from class, and it seemed rude not to show up.

 

Speaking of Beth, Matt hears her high heels clunk against the hardwood floor and feels a hand on his shoulder.

 

“Hey Matt,” she says. “And Foggy! Hi, girl!”

 

“Hey, Beth!” Foggy replies, joy in her voice. At least Foggy is enjoying this party. Might as well let her hang out with her friend while he downs some drinks.

 

—

 

Matt sits on a couch filled with frat guys at varying states of drunkenness, listening to the Yankees game on the TV.

 

He startles when he hears a heartbeat ratchet up, a very _familiar_ heartbeat. Foggy. In the bedroom upstairs. With… Beth?

 

He immediately tunes out the ball game and focuses his senses on Foggy. Something’s not right.

 

Matt hears Foggy speak. “Hey, listen, it’s been really great hanging out with you, but I should really see if Matt wants to leave—”

 

Matt hears Beth’s high heels approaching Foggy. “Aww, Foggy, do I really have to spell it out for you?”

 

Foggy’s heart races even faster, but not in the good way, in the _I’m scared shitless_ way. Matt grabs his cane and stands up. He ignores the disgruntled mumbles from the guys on the couch and focuses on getting upstairs as fast as possible while still looking like a blind guy. _Too many people can see me, I can’t just sprint up there, can’t—_

 

“Get off me! Stop!”

 

Foggy’s voice.

 

“Jesus Christ, Foggy, literally everyone can tell you’re a huge lesbo, you don’t have to pretend.” Beth’s voice.

 

Matt _sprints_ up the stairs and bangs on the bedroom door. “Foggy? Are you in here? I want to go home,” Matt says, masking the worry in his voice as much as possible.

 

The door opens; it’s Beth. She reeks of cheap Vodka and arousal. After she shifts her body weight from one foot to the other and Matt hears no rustling, he can tell there’s no shirt covering her torso, that’s she’s literally in her underwear and trying to get Foggy to sleep with her, and _oh God, why didn’t I get up here sooner?_

 

“We’re kind of in the middle of something here, Matt,” Beth says brightly.

 

“We’re not,” Foggy says, breaking past Beth and grabbing onto Matt’s arm. “Let’s get you home, Matt,” Foggy says, voice tense.

 

—

 

They get back to their room at three in the morning. Matt hears the zipper of Foggy’s skirt and the soft _thud_ of the fabric hitting the floor. He hears another thud and more rustling of fabric—sounds like she’s taking off her bra and putting on a t-shirt— and then she flops down on her bed. Doesn’t even bother to put on a proper set of pajamas like she always does. Matt frowns.

 

“Fog?” Matt says. Foggy isn’t asleep—Matt can her her heart racing, her breathing uneven.

 

But she says nothing.

 

Matt changes into a pair of sweatpants and stumbles wearily into his bed.

 

—

 

Matt wakes up with a start. He reaches out and feels the braille display of his alarm clock: five AM.

 

He wonders what woke him up until he hears a sob from Foggy. He breathes in and smells the salt of tears. _Fuck_.

 

“Foggy—” Matt starts.

 

Foggy’s breath hitches.

 

“Foggy,” Matt says again. He pushes his blankets off, stands up, and moves to Foggy’s bed. He sits on the very edge of the mattress.

 

“Matt,” Foggy says, voice shaking, “Go back to bed.”

 

“I’m awake now,” Matt says. “Tell me if there’s something I can do.”

 

Foggy doesn’t respond. Matt senses her body shifting, like she’s curling in on herself. He feels her holding her breath. He waits.

 

With a quick burst of air, words come tumbling out of Foggy. “I didn’t want her to— I didn’t want her to do that, I didn’t want—”

 

Foggy’s breath comes in short little gasps. She sits up and reaches out to Matt with hands trembling, lightly grasping the fabric of his t-shirt. Matt gently pulls her into a hug.

 

Matt holds her against his chest and feels her shaking, feels his shoulder get damp as she cries.

 

“Foggy,” Matt says softly. “It’s over. It’s over now, okay? You’re okay.”

 

“I _never_ wanted her to touch me,” Foggy says, and this time, Matt’s not sure she’s talking about Beth.

 

“I know,” Matt says, and he _knows_. He never wanted Stick to teach him how to fight. He never wanted to be treated like a child soldier training for Stick’s “war”. He was hit more times by Stick than any mugger he’s taken down on the streets. But it happened, and it was _over_ , and why is he crying now?

 

“Matt, are you crying?” Foggy mumbles into Matt’s shirt.

 

“No.” Matt’s voice cracks.

 

“You filthy liar,” Foggy tries to joke, but her heart’s not in it.

 

Matt focuses on slowing his breathing, just like when he meditates. He makes sure Foggy feels the expansion and contraction of his diaphragm. He hopes she can feel the beat of his heart.

 

They fall asleep together on Foggy’s bed as Matt feels the first rays of sunlight crawl through the tiny dorm window, the slight heat like kisses on his skin.

 

—

 

Matt wakes up sometime in the late afternoon; he’s not sure. His head pounds against his skull. Hangover. Great. He turns on his side to face Foggy. Her breathing and heartbeat are normal; she's already awake.

 

Neither of them speak for a long time.

 

“Her name was Selene,” Foggy says, voice hoarse. “She was my best friend in high school. At least, I _thought_ she was.”

 

“Fog, you don’t have to tell me anything,” Matt says softly.

 

“Let me finish,” Foggy says. “She… kept doing things. Little things, that I passed off as just girls being affectionate, you know? I’m a huggy kind of girl, you know that. I told myself I didn't mind.”

 

Matt nods.

 

“Until one day, in the corner of the library… she shoved a hand up my shirt, kept saying she was in love with me, that if I didn’t love her back she’d tell everyone I was a ‘dyke’, and— I just, I just ran out of there.

 

“The next day she came to school with all these— cuts up her arm, showed them to me, said it was my fault, that I made her do it. That if I didn’t love her back she’d do something worse.

 

“We only had two weeks left until summer break, so I just avoided her as best I could until the year ended. And I blocked everything out and tried to enjoy my summer. When school started again, she acted like nothing had ever happened. Like she’d not done anything wrong. When I told her I didn’t want to talk to her anymore, just like that, she never talked to me again. Found a different girl to emotionally manipulate. Jesus Christ, Matt, this is so stupid, I wasn’t _abused_ , I just—“ Foggy’s voice starts to break. “Last night brought everything back and— fuck, why do I always think they’re not going to be like her and then they _are_? Beth didn’t want to be my friend, she just wanted to get in my pants. Selene all over again. Fucking _hell_.”

 

Matt pulls Foggy into a hug. “Foggy, you are the greatest woman I’ve ever met. If anyone only wants to be friends with you just to get in your pants, punch them in the goddamn face, okay? Or I can punch them for you. My dad was a boxer, you know.”

 

Foggy laughs and buries her face in Matt’s shoulder. “Thank you, Matt,” she whispers.

 

“I'm always here for you, Fog,” Matt whispers back.

 

He wonders if one day he can tell her about Stick. About all the things Stick did to manipulate him. How he thought Stick was his friend, but it turns out he just wanted a soldier. He wants to. Wants to tell her he's been there, too. But that would mean telling her _everything_ , about his heightened senses, his little hobby of fighting criminals at night…

 

He’ll tell her. One day. One day soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for unwanted sexual advances (nothing further happens, just advances), as well as a brief mention of self harm.
> 
> There will probably be another chapter or two before the end chapter. I'm very, very (VERY) busy with college. I have two majors and both require a fuckton of my energy so I'm not sure when I'll be able to spend time on this fic, but rest assured I will be finishing this fic no matter what. I hate eternal WIP's as much as anyone, believe me.


End file.
